Did You See the Monkeys?

By Eddy Arnold

Did You See The Monkeys? is a love story, not about romantic love between a boy and a girl or a man and a woman, but about brotherly love between two boys who are not born brothers but who choose to be brothers. It's about strong, confident Tom and weak, scared Tad and their brotherly bond that lasts a lifetime. It's about the power of the human heart and the indomitable triumph of the human spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 27, 2010
• ISBN: 9781426942587

Eddy Arnold

Eddy Arnold is a retired pharmacist who lives in Corinth, Mississippi. He has previously published a book of short stories, David and Other Stories, which was a finalist in the Indie Book Awards.

Book preview

Contents

FRIDAY EVENING

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

SUNDAY MORNING

SUNDAY EVENING

FIFTEEN YEARS FROM YESTERDAY

PETER PAN

TODAY

REVELATION

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY

This is for the poor, neglected kids, those with large hearts and small opportunities, whose young lives are often tragic and calamitous. My wish for them is that they can play in the warm spring sun, knowing their God is looking down, smiling.

We rode high and fast on our black horses, high and fast and full of fury, the wind blowing our hair and the sun burning our dark skin, emblazoned with red war paint, side by side, blood brothers, and I knew deep down, down in my young heart, that at that time and at that place I was the best man I would ever be.

FRIDAY EVENING

I ran fast and hard down the wet slick street toward the big white house, tall and looming on the small hill, the black sky coming closer and closer. Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. The rain crashed against my face and burned like fire ants, erasing the war paint that was now a pitiful attempt at courage. I ran up the front steps that ran from the street to the yard and the wind tore off my shirt, to become intermingled with the flying sticks and leaves. Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. It ripped off my shorts and blew me from side to side, the rain stinging my back and the wind tearing my hair out by the roots. Tom. Tom. Tom. I ran up the second set that connected the yard to the porch and it ripped off my underwear and slung me from side to side like I was a toy doll and left me small and naked and drenched on the wet slick porch. I banged on the door as the lightning sizzled in the air. Tom. Tom. Tom. I beat on the door with my small fist until it opened. She stood there, tall and frowning, as my small naked body was pushed from side to side. She looked down. I need to see Tom. I need to see Tom. Please. Who are you, little girl? Who are you? You need to go home to your Mama. I ain’t a girl. I ain’t. I’m a boy. I’m a boy. I need to see Tom. Please. Well, I raised a boy and you definitely ain’t a boy. I am a boy. I am. I need to see Tom. Please. If you’re a boy then you’ve been bad, haven’t you? Been playing with razor blades again, haven’t you? You was warned. Been playing with razor blades and you accidentally…didn’t you? No…No…No…Then it turned completely black like night and I couldn’t see her through the wind and rain and darkness. No…No…No…I didn’t. I didn’t. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it accidentally. I did it on…purrrrposssse.

He rode into town on a big white horse. He was short and squatty, with the roll under his shirt around the waistline. His skin was like paper because he and the older one threw with each other under the big oaks, out of the sun.

He must be his grandpa.

He was older, with the gray around the sides and he was skinny. I had never seen a skinny grandpa.

Reckon where they’re from?

Dunno. They sound funny. Bet they’re Yankees.

Ever seen his Dad?

Naw. All I know is that he drives a propane truck.

I had them over my eyes, counting, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…6…I moved them apart so I could cheat. 7…8…9…They both went across the backyard, past the shed, and then past the trees, already leafed in the early spring sun, and then into the dry white weeds left over from last summer. They were tall and foreboding and bent slightly in the light breeze. Their heads disappeared, just like Tom said.

If you’re gonna have a girlfriend then you have to be around girls. Pretty simple. Just be around them and make yourself available. You have to play with girls, not just boys.

He got out with the door cracked, me peeking intently, wondering about those mysterious things, and he came in with me sitting on his bed with my hands folded neatly between my legs like in Sunday school. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and I could see some wetness still on his back, where he had missed because he was tall.

Like I said. Just make yourself available and it’ll happen.

But what makes it happen, Tom?

He was combing in the mirror across from his bed, with the towel around his waist and the beads on his back.

Mother nature, I guess.

What’s mother nature?

Shit. I’ve got to get ready in thirty minutes. Don’t have time to tell you the nature of the universe and all that’s between twelve years old and sixteen years old in thirty minutes. Shit.

I quit counting. I had cheated and then I turned around toward the weeds.

Here I come. Ready or not.

I went through the backyard, past the trees toward the dry white weeds and I thought I saw some of them move. Girls, they’re so stupid. Don’t even know how to be still. Have to be still, like Indians. They weren’t Indians. They were girls. They were white men.

The propane truck was in the front. We didn’t have propane. I wondered who did. It was in the back, just outside the fence. We walked by it on the way to the game. Jessie was the catcher because he was wide and mean. I sat on the bench. I wasn’t wide or mean. The top wouldn’t fit because people who drive propane trucks have more than will fit. The top lay beside it on the ground.

I’m sorry. But I’m in a hurry. Sometimes I forget how important that is when you’re twelve. But it’ll work out. I promise.

He dropped the towel and finished his back, lean and muscular. He still had some tan lines from last summer. He put on his underwear and jeans and socks and shoes. He stood, looking in the mirror, then smeared some of that stuff under his arms, into the great mass of matted hair. He had it everywhere. He turned and went to the closet.

Which one, red or blue?

I like blue.

Yeah. Can’t go wrong with blue.

I don’t have any.

He turned around, holding it up high.

I don’t have any. You’ve got a lot. I don’t have any.

The weeds moved again. They couldn’t be still. The closer I got the more they moved. My belly had that feeling, warm and sick and I couldn’t breath. The white man couldn’t be still. No wonder so many of them got scalped. That scary, breathless feeling was in my belly. I couldn’t breathe.

Oh, I know. But you will. Don’t be so impatient.

Tom talked in riddles and used foreign words and Tom had a lot.

Don’t compare me with you. You’re twelve. Don’t be so god-damn impatient and serious. Relax. It’ll work out. It won’t happen overnight.

Tom cussed. I liked to hear Tom cuss.

After they hide what do I do?

Well, you know how to play hide and…You go and find them just like they’re boys.

They were shaking in the breeze. I couldn’t breathe.

He put it on and buttoned it.

You find them in the weeds and you go up to them and hug them like you’re real happy you found them and you laugh. You’re real happy you found them and you hug them close and then you’re close and your hands are on their shorts and then you can feel.

He talked real slow and precise like I was a little kid.

I couldn’t breathe.

Will they know?

Sure. They don’t care. Anyways, when you’re messing with girls you cheat if you have to. Even if you cheat you always lose in the long run. You’ll have your small victories, a kiss here, a feel there, maybe even put it… but in the long run they always win. Have to pay for the house and car and all the bills. You always lose in the long run. That’s what Dad says. He’s lost for a long time. In the end, they’re all bitches. My Dad had a picture of a naked woman. He asked me if I knew the difference between a …you know…and a bitch. I said no. He made a little mark on the picture. Right between her legs. He pointed to the mark and said Well, that’s a …you know…and everything else is a bitch.

The weeds moved. Put it… I couldn’t breathe.

And if you’re really lucky she’s wearing a dress or skirt and you put your hand up in there and you can feel.

Why,